by Scott, S. L.
Brian says, “The bird tattoo makes a lot more sense now.”
The comment’s off the cuff by his light tone, but Baird is swift, angling toward Brian. “Explain.”
With his eyes volleying between my tattoo and my eyes, Brian shoves his hands in his pleated khakis. “There’s a band called The Crow Brothers.” Baird looks back at me as Brian continues, “Her boyfriend is a member of the band.”
Baird’s eyes seem to light up with some fucked-up delight. “My son likes that band. You can arrange a meeting and tickets.”
I didn’t know he could be more twisted. I was wrong. The only thing that keeps me from screaming in hopes of waking up from this nightmare is the slip that he’s going to let me live.
Baird comes around the desk and runs his finger along my spine. He pushes me forward, a firm hand between my shoulder blades guiding my descent. Fight.
“Ow,” I whimper when my ear touches the wood.
“Is something wrong with you, Ms. Fellowes?”
Of course, there’s something wrong. Like me bent over this desk and you being a money laundering, gambling ring, sex-slave psycho. The fact that I was almost trafficked and somehow saved by the man I thought was the worst I would encounter. That I will never see the reason I breathe again. Or feel his arms around me. So yes, there’s fucking something wrong with me. “Yes.”
“What?”
“Yellow hit me on the ear. It’s still bleeding and hurts against the desk.”
His voice aims across the room. “What happened, Yellow?”
“She elbowed me.”
He sounds surprised and then laughs. “Elbowed you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But then you laid a hand on my property?”
Me. Baird’s property. My stomach roils.
Anger’s heard in Baird’s tone, so this time, Yellow pauses before speaking. “Yes, sir.”
The drawer next to my hip is opened, the sharp corner digging into my skin. I don’t see what’s happening as I lie across the desk waiting to make my move, ready to fight, but I’m assured in my decision.
Gunfire rings out without warning, and I scream, closing my eyes. Just when my eyes reopen, I see Yellow fall to the ground, and Brian yells, “Duck, Stella.”
Working on instinct, I slide down to the other side of the desk and bury myself in the opening for the chair. Another gunshot sounds, echoing in the small room. And then one more before Baird slumps against the credenza and slides to the floor, his eyes level with mine. He raises his arm with the gun in his hand, staring straight at me until the life leaves his eyes and his arms falls to the floor.
“Stella?”
I scramble to my knees, slipping off the shoes, and jumping to my feet with the robe in my hands covering me. “Brian?”
Swinging the robe over me as I run, I then drop to my knees beside him. Blood seeps into the cotton of his shirt and spreads wide across his chest. He saved me? “Brian?”
He coughs up blood and gargles, so I help him the best I can, trying to support his head. Then he smiles, and all the smugness from before is gone as he finds the light. “I’m sorry.” When he tries to laugh, he spits blood. His eyes find mine, and he says, “He . . . wasn’t meant to touch you.”
I nod, but I have no words. I’m surrounded by death. I’m surrounded by evil.
Can’t get air into my lungs.
“Pray for my soul . . . fires . . . hell . . .”
Prayers won’t save his soul.
What do I do? I can’t breathe . . .
The door flies open, and Suthers rushes in, gun in hand leading the way. “Put your hands up.” He scopes out the room, and asks, “Anyone besides you alive?”
I don’t know the answer. My vision is shrinking, and my legs feel too weak to stand . . .
41
Rivers
Leaning against the cop car, I have my legs crossed at the ankle and my arms over my chest. It’s been two hours since I arrived, and I refuse to leave until they release Stella from the scene.
I relaxed once I heard from her. The scene investigators found her phone, and though they’re keeping it for evidence, they let her call me on a different one. Once I heard her voice and that she was okay, which was bullshit given she passed out for a minute, I breathed a sigh of relief and have been impatiently waiting outside on the street since they won’t let me inside to see her.
God, what she said . . . What she did . . . running off . . . I can’t believe she risked herself. It makes me furious and desperate to see her, to hold her again.
My brothers were waiting with me until the gathering crowd saw them and started making a scene. A few screams of glee had officers pulling their weapons thinking they were in the middle of another developing scene. They were but not the dangerous kind. Jet and Tulsa signed a few autographs and then left to wait at the hotel with the other guys.
Meadow is at the hotel for safety reasons, and once she heard from Stella, she agreed to stay put for the time being.
Like a vision, I don’t trust my eyes when I see an angel coming my way. I push off the car and wipe my eyes. I nearly lost her tonight. I start walking toward her, but there’s no way I won’t run. I speed up, running toward her as she starts running to me. Right into my arms. I could have lost her again. She could have died or been hurt. Not one second of holding this woman in my arms will ever be taken for granted.
My hands roam her body, making sure she’s all in one piece even after setting her down. I look at those big green eyes filled with what I hope are happy tears. I think she’s okay. For now. And even though I want to yell at her for leaving me, I think she needs me to carry that burden for a while. So I suck back my anger and go for light. “How are you, Rambo?”
That elicits the laugh I hoped to get. If she can laugh after what she’s been through, I know she’ll be okay. A crocodile tear breaks free from her lower lid and rolls down her cheek. “I was supposed to die today.”
“No. You were meant to live today, or you wouldn’t be standing here with me.”
She nods while looking behind her, the ambulance’s siren blare before pulling around the barricades. Turning back to me when Suthers approaches, she tightens her hands on my sides. I bring her against me and angle toward him, becoming a united front.
He stops a few feet in front of us, his hands jangling keys or change in his pockets from the sound. “I’m not much of a detective it seems.”
Stella says, “I think Brian was good at hiding the other side he didn’t want people to see.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t see. It was my job. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry you had to go through everything you did.”
“You’re not to blame.” Her arm slides around my back. “Rivers and I have felt the pain that carrying unwarranted blame can do to your soul. I’m alive. No one that died in there today was good.” I see through her. My woman with the love bigger than the sun gives him a reprieve so another doesn’t suffer like me. I still carry the guilt of my mother’s death, but she’s right.
I’m not to blame.
That won’t take away the pain, but it eases the sting.
She steps forward to shake his hand. When he takes her hand, she covers it with her other, and is determined when she says, “His son has been groomed by his monster of a father.”
* * *
With the names of the deceased unreleased, a sting was set up to catch Josh Baird before he flew the coup as Suthers called it. When that much money is at play, he could disappear and never be seen again. But as a witness, as an accomplice in his knowledge of his father’s operations, he was vital to them to gain more information.
Stella was nervous but was convinced it was the right thing to do. Who says she doesn’t wear a cape. I refused to let her do this alone. I can’t be in the classroom without blowing her cover, but I can be in the school.
My band, my brothers, my family who extends to Johnny and Tommy all insisted to be here as support despite S
tella saying we can’t blend in. We’re blending into the teacher’s lounge just fine, proving her wrong.
I made Stella promise two things: If she felt she was in danger at any point, she would leave immediately, and that when she was ready for the police to come into the classroom, she would FaceTime us so I knew she was safe. With these promises in place, she sent the substitute who had filled in for her today to the lounge to cover the class for her, if necessary.
The sub couldn’t be more than a few years older than me. The mug shakes in her hand as she brings it to her mouth, her eyes glued to us. She takes a messy sip and then swirls her finger at us. “Do you always travel in a pack . . . like this? All together?”
“By pack, you mean band?” I look around at Johnny, Jet, Tulsa, Ridge, Tommy, and shrug. “It seems to happen more often than you’d think.”
“Can I get a picture?”
Smiling, I wink. “I was just about to ask you for one.”
Her cheeks turn bright red. Standing up, the guys and I gather behind her, and Tulsa stretches his arm to get us all in the photo and takes it.
Everyone settles back around the room, drinking coffee while we wait for the action to begin. The sub asks, “So you know Ms. Fellowes?”
“Yes.” I try to play it cool, but there’s no fucking way I can keep from smiling. “She’s my girlfriend, soon-to-be wife.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Wow. Lucky girl.”
Resting forward on my elbows, I say, “Nope. I’m the lucky one.”
The screen of my phone lights up, and it’s Stella FaceTiming me. I turn to the guys. “Showtime.”
When I answer, the phone shows a panoramic view of the classroom. Stella moves back to the chalkboard and continues her lesson. I lean in to try to find the fucker. He’s easy to spot—slumped back with his pen, like a dick, poking the side of his cheek as he looks at my Stella like she’s there for his personal entertainment. His father just died, but I’ve lost any sympathy for these psychopaths.
The door swings open and two men—Suthers and a cop in uniform—enter the classroom. Asshole sits straight up when he sees them. Through the commotion, it’s hard to hear everything as it goes down, but Suthers holds his badge out as he walks to the prick’s desk and stands right in front of him.
When he’s told to stand, I rush out of the lounge and up a flight of stairs, taking the steps three at a time. There are a few people in the hall outside the classroom as well as other officers. Working together to put this plan in place, I walk right past them but move to the side when the door is pushed open.
He’s walked out by the officer holding him by the handcuffs behind his back. He’s struggling and turns to look back over his shoulder. “You’ll pay for this, you fucking bitch,” the son of a monster yells at my woman.
He has some fucking balls to talk to my Stella like that.
My whole reason to live.
Fuck this little fucker.
He never saw me coming. Pinning him to the lockers behind him, I tighten my fingers around his neck. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done, for the thoughts you had the nerve to voice. You’ll never fucking talk to her again. Don’t even think about her, or you’ll never have the ability to use that small dick of yours again.”
Just as his face starts turning a deeper shade of red, I release him. He hacks a lung, but when his eyes come back to mine, they go wide. “What the fuck? Hey! Wait . . . aren’t you in The—”
Suthers sweeps him to the side. “Take him away and don’t forget to tell him that his father’s dead.”
The prick’s feet stumble, and his head falls forward. “What did you say about my father?”
Another officer takes his other arm, and they move him down the hall. We hear him yelling obscenities at the cops, but I just don’t give a shit. Rot in hell, asshole.
Stella comes out of the classroom and nudges my side. Wrapping my arms over her shoulders, I say, “You did the right thing.”
“I’m not feeling the satisfaction I thought I would.”
“Because you have a heart, unlike that sicko. You’ve saved a lifetime of women who would have had the unfortunate luck of meeting him. He was like his father, and Meadow was his next target.”
She nods, and even though I see how heavy her heart is by the sadness in her eyes, she manages a small smile. “You’ll be happy to hear that I’m hanging up my cape. I don’t want to be the hero anymore.”
Squeezing her tight, I kiss her head and sneak a little ass grab. “I prefer you naked anyway.”
I get whacked in the chest and rewarded with the best damn sound in the world—her laughter.
42
Stella
I used to think that love was easy. My love bloomed for Rivers Crow the day he talked to me in tenth grade. He was easy to like with his charisma and good looks. He was easy to love with his soft heart and kind words. My first taste of true love was loving him. There’s definitely something to be said about first love. Sometimes it turns into your forever love and always stays with you.
So despite the terrible role models my parents were on the matter, love came easy for me and stayed for the long haul. We had our bump in the road, though it felt like a cliff at the time, but we’re back together and better than ever.
I could say so much about how my life changed this past year, but I don’t want to rehash the bad or relive the nightmare. Three months ago, the love of my life decided to take a chance and come back for me.
I’m so glad he did because the one thing I’ve learned when it comes to love is it may not have always been easy, but he’s easy to love.
Rivers’s hand tightens around mine. I know he’s anxious. I am too. After putting the bad we’ve both been through behind us we still have a few demons to duel. The problem is that they’re all inside his head. I’m not sure how to help battle them other than being here for him.
The car comes to a stop, but he doesn’t get out. He doesn’t even make a move, not to open the door or look out the window. His gaze stays directed on the bottom of the seat in front of him. “Rivers?” He turns, almost surprised to hear his name, but remains silent. “You’re not to blame.”
“She died because she felt guilty about not having a cake for me.”
“No. That’s not true. She wanted you to have the cake. She wanted to give you everything every kid deserves on their birthday. She loved you. You’re the boy she used to wake up early just to spend quiet time alone with.”
His eyes stay on me, captive to the story. “What?”
“She once told me that on your seventh birthday you woke up early, too early. She knew you would because you always tried to get a peek of your presents, so this time, she woke up early and was waiting for you.” I smile as if the memory is one of my own happier times. “She said you were so cute because you thought you were a ninja. When she spotted you, though, you came outside. She held you in her arms as the sun rose. Rivers, she told me she loved that memory so much because for a few moments in time, she had you all to herself and you had her.”
This man carries so much guilt that it fills his eyes, hiding the truth from him. “Why did she have to die?”
“I don’t have the answer.”
“It was a fucking cake. I could have gone without.”
“You went without so much already.” Running my fingers through his hair, I stop and hold the back of his head. “It wasn’t about the cake, Rivers. It was about her wanting you to feel special, to celebrate your day.”
“If I hadn’t let my mother leave, convinced her that a cake wasn’t necessary. . . but she insisted. It didn’t matter that I was seventeen and practically a grown man. She babied me, insisting that we needed balloons and a cake. It didn’t matter that she had just worked a ten-hour shift at one of her shitty jobs. She saw me when she walked in, and I remember the sadness on her face. I remember every moment of that last goodbye and how I begged her to stay.”
Will sharing these memories set him free from
the pain of them? I’ll do anything to help him. “What did she say?”
“She told me to order the pizzas and that she’d be back before they arrived.” He tips his head down. “She said to humor her and let her get the cake. I let her walk out that door, and she never returned.” His shoulders sag even more as he folds over losing himself in the memory. “She promised she’d return, Stella.”
I slide over until I’m practically on top of him, wrapping my arms around his body. “She kept her promise.” I rub the spot over his heart. “She is always with you, and she’d be so proud of the man you’ve become.”
The door opens, and Jet stands, angling his head down. “Rivers?”
I kiss the side of his neck and then by his ear, along his cheek until he turns to me and lets me kiss his lips. I cradle his face in the palms of my hands, and say, “She’s always been there for you. It’s your turn to be there for her.”
Rivers nods and steps out of the car, waiting with his hand held back for me. His brother claps his back before walking ahead to catch up with Hannah, Alfie, and his baby, Violet.
We’ve come this sunshine filled January day to celebrate her birth, the legacy of her life here to recognize the way she touched all our lives. I’ve been here before. Actually, many times. I bring flowers every couple of months and lay them on the grass in front of the headstone. I wasn’t officially her daughter, but she was a mother in all senses to me.
As we gather around her grave, I read the stone silently to myself:
Louisa Rain Crow
She lived for sunrises.
She lived for her kids.
She had endless love to give.
But most of all, Louisa loved.
She lived and She loved.
“She lived.” The words slip out, and that sense of adventure to live life to the fullest fills my soul again. Looking up into the warmth of his eyes, and say, “It’s time to grieve and let go of this pain you carry with you every day. It’s time to live, Rivers. Just like she did. She lived for every day she got to be with you.”
